


Hole in the Wall

by claitynroberts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cave-In, Dean POV, Dean Winchester Point of View, F/M, Magic, Reader Insert, Secrets, Sooo Much Angst, Unrequited Love, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 17:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15248034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claitynroberts/pseuds/claitynroberts
Summary: Dean has had feelings for y/n, his best friend, for some time now. He has returned after disappearing for weeks on end after finding out y/n is descended from a powerful Scandinavian coven, although y/n is not taking his return well, causing their relationship to become strained. When a spell goes awry a long-forgotten storage area is uncovered in the bunker.





	Hole in the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Amanda-teaches’s #unluckynumber13 challenge on Tumblr

Pining was not my thing. Hell, I’m Dean friggin’ Winchester, women pine over me; I’m not supposed to be the one moping around the bunker because the girl I loved didn’t seem interested in me. And why would she? We’ve been friends for years now, she knew way too much to see me in any other light. History was a bitch.

I sat up on my mattress with a groan to equal the rickety bed frame’s as I planted both feet on the floor and stood. Throwing my hands above my head to work the kink out of my shoulders I began the short trek to the kitchen, the smell of hot coffee and bacon wafting down the hallway to meet me. Sam was up, which wasn’t unusual for his hippy dippy lifestyle of running and organic greens he loved, and sitting at the table reading something on his laptop.

Y/n was at the stove turning the bacon in the skillet as pancakes sizzled on the griddle. She was standing there in her sleep shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with the sleeves slid up to her elbows, her hair piled into a messy bun as she hummed under her breath. Quietly I leaned against the door jam for a moment, taking her in. She was gorgeous in the most normal ways imaginable. Her hips were well rounded and her breasts were full, begging even the most pious man to touch them. She didn’t wear her makeup caked on like most girls, spending hours on getting the perfect contour blend. No, she embraced her natural beauty, which made her even sexier in my opinion. She wasn’t a Victoria’s Secret model, but damn, she could put those girls to shame. 

Breaking myself out of my reverie, I padded into the room to retrieve a mug, pouring myself a cup of the dark caffeinated liquid. “Mornin’,” my voice came out gruffer than intended, so I offered up a half-smile to ease the harshness of my tone.

Y/n barely made eye contact with me as she continued to go about cooking breakfast, a muffled “mm-hmm” vibrating through her pursed lips.

Frowning I looked at her from where I was leaned up against the counter next to the stove. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” Her shoulders were tensed as her movements became slightly hurried. 

“I dunno, you just seem...off, I guess.” I sipped quietly from my mug, the warm liquid sliding down my throat and awakening my sleep-dulled senses.

“Nope. I’m just peachy.”

Nodding, I launched off the edge of the counter and walked over to sit beside Sam at the table, pulling the morning paper over to scan the headlines. Halfway down the page my gaze flicked up toward her, ever pulled to her presence, as she dropped her’s and turned back to the breakfast food sizzling on the cooktop. I thought I saw longing reflected in her deep y/ec irises, but surely that was just my imagination.

The last few weeks have been odd to say the least. Gone was our typical flirty banter, and in its place sat passive-aggressive, sarcastic remarks. Every emotion and every word was tinged heavily with the new dynamic of our once easy-going relationship. In hindsight it’s probably my fault since I didn’t take the news of her witchy heritage too well; yelling and cursing and denying the newly found fact after Rowena had dropped the truth bomb on us after a case. I’d been warring with myself internally, a part of me drawn to her quiet beauty and the other part reviled by her magical abilities. 

I loved her, yes, she was my best friend, the person I could turn to when Sam wouldn’t understand. We’d been through so much, the two of us, and somewhere along the line the friendship turned deeper for me. Instead of telling her about the hot hookup I had with a chick from the bar, I wanted y/n to be the one I came home with. When I thought about the future, in any aspect, she was there. She was always there.

But then we found out she was descended from some ancient Scandinavian coven. Her latent powers lying dormant until the right stressor came along and caused them to awaken. Rowena assured us if she weren’t properly trained the next time her magic leashed out the consequences could be so much worse. This is when I flipped my shit. In my mind I couldn’t reconcile this beautiful woman with the nasty experiences I’d had with witches. I’d said some things I wasn’t proud of and took off for a couple weeks. Went radio silent. Didn’t answer any calls or texts that weren’t related to the minuscule hunts I dug up to stay away from Lebanon. 

I’d only recently returned to the bunker, doing my best to fit back into the family unit I had destroyed. Sam had forgiven me after a few days of clipped conversations and a bottle of whiskey. Y/n on the other hand, didn’t seem to be in the forgiving mood quite yet. 

Y/n quietly sat a plate of food down in front of Sam, along with the toppings for the pancakes. When I looked up at her I was met with an icy glare as she all but threw my plate down in front of me, the metal dish clanging against the worn wood of the table.

Sam and I exchanged a look as I cleared my throat. “Sweetheart, you sure you’re okay?” 

My question was met with the mother of all eye rolls as y/n picked her plate up off the counter and strode toward the door. “Sam,” her voice was edged with annoyance and thinly veiled anger, “If anyone asks I’m fine. F-I-N-E, fine. I’m going to go eat in my room.” She offered him a half-assed smile before turning her glare toward me once more, continuing to address my brother. “Don’t forget Rowena is coming by later to help with my skills. When she gets here, tell her I’ll be down in the training room waiting for her.” With that she turned on her heels and marched out.

Surprised at her hostility I stared after her, watching her hips sway back and forth as she padded softly to her room and shut the door. Sighing I rubbed my hand across my forehead wondering how in the hell I was going to fix this. 

“Dude,” Sam caught my attention as I looked at him, his eyebrows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve got to fix this.” Glancing between me and where y/n disappeared with her breakfast.

“I know. I just...I don’t know how.”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes as he packed up his laptop and grabbed his own plate. “Why don’t you try apologizing for being a dick? That would be a good place to start.”

“I’ve tried, Sam.” My voice slightly louder than I intended it to be. Releasing a sigh I looked up at him. “I’ve tried apologizing, she won’t talk to me.” My hand landed on the back of my neck nearly rubbing it red raw in the process.

“Make her talk to you. You both need to get over yourselves and talk things out.”

“I really think I ruined things this time.” I looked up at my brother to meet his sympathetic gaze. 

“I don’t think so. She loves you, Dean, and when you found out about her witchy bloodline you flipped and ran out on her for weeks. She has a right to be mad at you. Her best friend left because he couldn’t deal with something she had no control over whatsoever. Apologize, give her time, she’ll come around.”

“I hope you’re right Sammy.” I sat there thinking about everything he just said, when one statement latched onto my still groggy brain. “Wait. Did you say she loves me?” My brows furrowed as I looked up to my giant little brother.

“If you can’t tell she loves you, then you are either blind or the most oblivious person I know.” He chuckled as he walked toward the doorway. “I’ll be in the library if you need me.”

I returned my attention to my breakfast, the loss of appetite making the once delicious smelling food seem less than appealing. “Stupid pancakes.”

—————

Some time later I found myself holed up in the garage giving Baby a little tender loving care. After a complete detail job including washing, waxing, vacuuming, and cleaning out the floorboards, I popped the hood and set in on some light engine maintenance. I replaced a spark-plug and tightened the bolts on a few belts which made her purr all the better once I started her up. 

Once I’d finished with baby I wandered back to my room in order to clean my weapons. Moving around the small space I grabbed the cleaning kit, some oil, and a soft cloth before unloading the Colt .45 and starting the disassembling process. Just as I was about to take off the slide, the room began shaking, dust fell from the ceiling as the lights flickered on and off. Quickly I slid the slide back into place and reloaded the gun as I bolted through the door. 

“Sammy!” I hollered as I rounded the corner into the library.

“Dean,” I head as a wall of muscle collided into me. “Hey, I was coming to get you. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on? What is this?” I asked worriedly as I glanced around the bunker. The pull chains on the lamps were swinging back and forth with the rumbling, and dust and plaster bits seemed to be raining down from everywhere.

“I don’t know!” He looked around the room as books began to fall off the shelves. “Could this be from—.”

“Y/n and Rowena?” I finished for him. Sharing a look we began to hustle toward the training room they had set up. Just as we neared the door the shaking of the bunker stopped spurring us forward on a tidal wave of worry.

“Y/n?” I flung open the door to find both her and Rowena scrambling to their feet, coughing from the thick cloud of dust engulfing the air around them.

“I’m fine. We’re fine.” Came her annoyed voice.

“Oh dear me, that didn’t go at all as planned,” came the lilting Scottish voice belonging to the red-haired witch.

“What the hell happened?” I bellowed as I looked around the room. A layer of dirt and dust coated everything, including the two women, and the floor was covered in rubble. Following the scattered stones and lumber up to where I supposed it had come from, a gaping hole in the wall ahead. “Oh c’mon!”

I began pacing toward the impromptu demolition area as I head Sam in the background. “So y/n what exactly happened here?” I turned around and saw him waving vaguely to the demolished room. 

“Yes, exactly.” I said as I glared between y/n and her mentor.

“Ro gave me a spell to try and I guess it went a little haywire.” Y/n was fiddling with her cuticules as she looked at the floor.

“A little?” I bellowed. “A ‘little haywire? Y/n you blew a hole in the wall!” I was mad and astounded that her magic was able to do this when she got the spell wrong; what could happen if she got it right?

“Don’t you yell at me Dean Winchester.” Her jaw was set and her shoulders squared as she slammed her hands down on her hips. “Better I mess up here than somewhere innocent people could get hurt!”

“Y/n you almost brought the bunker down on our heads!”

“Dean,” Sam said as he grabbed my arm. “Ease up, dude. It was an accident.”

I took in a deep breath as I closed my eyes, centering myself and counting to ten. When I opened them I looked between y/n and Rowena. “What kind of spell was this?”

“Oh you know, just a lost object spell.” Rowena said with a smile and a fake cheery voice.

“A lost obj—what the hell were you trying to find,” I growled in a low voice. “The freaking tunnel to China?” I swung my arm around to point to the gaping hole in the wall. 

Stalking forward, I stepped through the rubble to find a small room I’d never seen in the blueprints of the bunker before. The dim light filtering in from the adjacent room lent just enough life to see a switch on the wall to the side. Flipping it up, a short row of lights lit the room illuminating the dust covered table, shelves, and artifacts lining the area. “Whoa.”

I began to investigate the newly discovered room as I head y/n and Sam approach. “What is this place,” y/n’s voice asked behind me.

“I don’t know.”

Sam was rummaging through a filing cabinet near the back, pulling out case file after case file and laying them on the table. Flipping through a couple he looked over at me. “I think this must have been some kind of cursed object storage. These files date back decades and the objects in these pictures,” he said pointing to a black and white photograph neatly clipped to the inside of the file, “are on the shelves around the room.”

“Cool,” y/n let out on a breathy whisper, the kind I’ve always dreamt her saying my name in.

She and Sam were huddled together looking over an interesting file, as I was perusing the shelves. A myriad of objects adorned the dust covered storage area, a paintbrush, binoculars, a more, each one weirder than the last. 

Hearing chanting to my left, I whipped my head around to look at the Scottish witch through the hole in the wall. “Rowena,” I shouted as I began moving toward her, another rumble began to shake the room, this time rocks and debris falling to cover the opening of the hole in the wall. The ceiling next to the makeshift door caving in and sealing us into the long forgotten room. 

“Son of a bitch,” I yelled, turning around in frustration. Y/n was huddled in Sam’s embrace, a look of terror and worry covering both of their faces.


End file.
